


To Feel Needed

by CarnivalMirai



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Crying During Sex, Hand Jobs, Injury Recovery, M/M, Makeup Sex, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Praise Kink, Promiscuity, Someone Help Will Graham, Sort Of, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Needs a Hug, sex as a coping mechanism, so does hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnivalMirai/pseuds/CarnivalMirai
Summary: Hannibal, all this time has been telling himself ‘he’ll open up soon. He’s just having a hard time,’. It’s only now when he stops believing in that. Three months of quiet, distant Will has boiled down to this. And it makes sense. No matter how Hannibal expresses his love, no matter how Hannibal treats him, Will will never love him back.Or: Hannibal has been doting on a very distant Will. And one day, Will snaps.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Original Male Character(s), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 266





	To Feel Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tweet!](https://twitter.com/allegralovelace/status/1290729277323976704?s=20)  
> Not beta read as usual, y'all know the drill around these parts

It’s been three months since they settled on the coast of Cuba. Three months since they went over the cliff, three months since Will had decided he’d rather die with Hannibal than live without him. But they'd survived. They’d survived, yet it still didn’t feel quite like Hannibal had envisioned. 

Will is still recovering. He’s still recovering from physical trauma. He’s still going through physical therapy, resting sufficiently, trying to recover from the mental fatigue and the mental scars. Will has lost a lot of muscle mass through recovery. He’s lost feeling in some of the nerves in his hands, and he’s still recovering from a broken back. Hannibal is really trying his best to accommodate Will’s needs. 

Will often sleeps right through the day, until noon at least, so that means often, Hannibal only prepares two meals per day— dinner and lunch. And both of those are always suited more to Will’s tastes. That means nothing too pretentious. It means simple and quick, probably with fish. Something easy on his stomach. 

When lunch is ready, Hannibal heads over to Will’s room and knocks on the door. There’s a quiet grumble, and Hannibal takes that as a sign that he can come in. 

“I’ve prepared lunch. If you’re up to eating it would do you some good to have something nutritious.” Hannibal explains, to which Will grumbles again. “It’s something light. A salmon salad, I know you particularly enjoy salmon.” Another grumble. “Do come out when you’re up to it.” Hannibal sighs pitifully and leaves the room, hoping Will will come out to eat. 

It’s been a rough three months for Will, Hannibal knows. He’s still adjusting to living with Hannibal, to having only Hannibal and their dogs in his life. As a result, Hannibal feels the need to be every figure in Will’s life. A friend, a mentor, a therapist, a… partner? In all honesty, Hannibal does not know where they stand at the moment. It’s clear— or at least, unless Hannibal is deeply misinterpreting— that Will is in love with him too. But they seem to be at a stand still that Hannibal can’t quite figure out. He’s pulled from his thoughts, however, when Will comes out of his room and joins Hannibal at the table. Hannibal lets out a breath of relief as he flashes him a kind smile, which is reciprocated as Will sits down. 

They eat in relative silence. Hannibal wants to say something, anything, just to get Will to speak but for once in his life he finds himself unable to start a conversation. 

“I’m gonna take a bath in a bit.” Will says, and it’s the first time he’s spoken today. 

“Would you like me to run you a bath now?” Hannibal asks, standing up to take his empty plate away. “I can warm the water up and help you fill the tub.” Deep down, Hannibal hopes Will will let him fill the tub. He just wants to feel…  _ needed,  _ he supposes. 

“No thank you. I can do it.” Hannibal feels himself deflate, but nods. 

“There’s lavender oil in the cupboard.” He informs. “I saw it when I went out the other day, and thought it would be nice for you to have in your baths, help your muscles relax.” Will nods. 

“Thank you.” And as quietly as Will had come into the dining area, he left just as swiftly. Hannibal lets out a troubled breath as he distantly watches Will retreat to his room. He just keeps telling himself  _ ‘he’ll open up soon. He’s just having a hard time,’.  _ But even so, Hannibal can only tell himself that so many times before he stops believing it. 

*** 

As soon as Hannibal hears the water turn off, he stops whatever he’s doing and waits for Will to reemerge. Will is yet to regain full use of his hands and arms, so every time Will comes out of the shower or finishes up his bath, Hannibal is there to massage his arms, right down to his fingers. 

Hannibal hears the bathroom door open and seconds later, Will comes into the front room, clad only in silk pyjama pants, and sits down, so Hannibal can massage his aching, numb arms. 

Will hums in delight as Hannibal quietly gets to work. His fingers and knuckles press firmly into his upper arms, kneading the muscle and digging into the pressure points. He hisses a little at the slight sting of electricity that jolts through his arms, but quickly relaxes again. 

“We mustn’t let the muscles in your arms seize up.” Hannibal says. “Otherwise it will slow recovery, and it’ll be more difficult to regain feelings in your nerves and use of your muscles.” Will doesn’t comment. He just lets Hannibal get on with it, relishing in the soothing firmness of well practiced hands. 

Once he’s done with both arms, Hannibal instructs him to turn around, so he can get his shoulders too. He’s always careful not to aggravate his healing back, so his hands are significantly more gentle, and each caress is heavenly. Will hopes he can have this forever. 

***

Hannibal makes fish pie for dinner, something he hopes will bring up Will’s spirits. Currently, Will is sitting on the sofa in the front room, curled up in a blanket, their dogs on the floor. When dinner is ready, Hannibal brings Will’s plate out to him and tentatively takes a seat on the other end of the sofa. Will gratefully takes his plate. 

“Not sitting at the table today?” Muses Will with a light hearted smile. 

“I thought you’d prefer to eat out here, since you’ve made yourself comfortable already.” Hannibal chuckles. “Fish pie. Something simple and comforting.” Will’s lip twitches into another weary smile. 

“Thank you.”

Once more, they sit in silence and eat. But at least this time, Will doesn’t look so miserable. 

When they finish, Hannibal clears away their plates. He comes to sit back down, only this time, he sits closer to Will, in hopes of pushing their boundaries a little. Much to his surprise, Will doesn’t push him away. 

———————————————————————

Hannibal tries to push the boundaries every day. Sometimes his hand will brush Will’s arm when he walks past, sometimes he’ll grasp Will’s waist and come up behind him in the kitchen. And each time, he desperately hopes Will doesn’t push him away. 

But he can see something in Will is simmering. He just seems tense, like there’s something constantly at the forefront of his mind. Hannibal pushes the observation to the back of his mind however, because it seems like Will is beginning to finally relax around him. Perhaps he’s just overthinking. 

***

Will has not been adjusting well. This isn’t how he imagined things would end up. He had expected to die that night with Hannibal, but they didn’t. They survived. And now Will doesn’t know how to feel about that. He’s not quite figured out where to go from here and it troubles him. 

Will loves Hannibal. He really does. But when he first imagined running away from Hannibal, he imagined feeling… content. Fulfilled. But right now, he’s just in pain. Physically and emotionally. It feels like something is missing, and Will can’t quite figure out what it is. He sighs as he stands on the balcony watching the waves crash against the sand. At least when he’s doubting their current situation, the waves are there to bring him some peace. 

Hannibal’s hands come around his waist, his grip soft, more to alert Will of his presence than anything else. Will almost jumps out of his skin at Hannibal’s touch. 

“Hannibal.” He murmurs. “You scared me.” 

“My apologies, Will. That was not my intention.” Hannibal apologises, releasing his hands from Will’s waist. “You seemed deep in thought. Care to talk about it?” Will’s lips purse and his brows crease as he shakes his head. 

“Did you need something?” He asks with a quiet murmur. From the small table on the balcony, Hannibal picks up a mug. 

“Eucalyptus tea.” Hannibal says, handing him the mug. “I saw it when I went out earlier. I thought you’d like to try it. Eucalyptus is known to have calming properties.” He explains, resting one hand on Will’s upper arm, running up and down slowly. 

“Are you saying I’m not calm?” Murmurs Will into the rim of his mug gripped tightly between both hands as he sips at the tea. 

“Not at all.” Muses Hannibal. “I simply assumed you’d enjoy the tea.” 

“Thank you.” Hannibal lingers for a little while longer, hoping maybe  _ this time,  _ Will would open up about what he’s so distracted by. But he doesn’t. So silently, Hannibal slips back into the cabin with a defeated sigh. 

———————————————————————

Will loathes how physically weak he feels at the moment. The fact that he can’t even pop the cap of his shampoo open is just infuriating. He tries to cut himself some slack— it’s only been three months. He’s still recovering from nerve damage. His hand can’t muster strength in the right places at the moment. 

Hannibal normally leaves the shampoo bottles open to make Will’s life easier, but today, Will has to open a new bottle. His fingers keep slipping from the cap and his thumb trembles every time he tries to flick the cap open. “Come  _ on!”  _ He hisses, trying to get the cap open. But everything is just so  _ difficult.  _ In his anger, he tosses the bottle across the bathroom and sinks down in the tub. 

As he’s steeping in his anger, the bathroom door opens quietly. It’s Hannibal. 

“Will. I heard a loud noise. Are you alright?” Hannibal asks as Will buries his face in his arms, knees tucked up to his chest. 

“I’m _ fine.”  _ Grumbles Will through gritted teeth as his fingers dig into his arms. Hannibal looks around the bathroom to see the bottle of shampoo thrown across the room, having landed in the sink. Going over, he picks up the bottle and opens the cap for him. 

“If you needed help, you could have asked.” Hannibal says calmly, setting the bottle back on the side of the tub. 

That is Will’s breaking point. 

_ “Stop!”  _ Will snaps. “Just stop! I don’t need you to help me! I don’t need you to do everything for me, I don’t need you to buy me fucking tea and bath oils, I don’t need you to open fucking shampoo for me, I  _ don’t need you!”  _ Will’s face is red with anger, but as soon as he sees Hannibal’s face, stricken with shock and sadness, he regrets those words instantly. Hannibal’s fringe falls in front of his face and Will watches as he clenches his jaw and swallows. Hannibal looks like a kicked puppy. 

Will didn't mean it like that, but he knows how Hannibal has taken it. Especially with how fragile Hannibal’s state is at the moment, with his constant worry that one day, he’ll wake up and Will won’t be there, this is just the cherry on top. He can see the way tears line Hannibal’s eyes, but they don’t fall. 

Hannibal is completely taken aback by Will’s words. His heart sinks in his chest and it feels like every single one of Hannibal’s hopes shatters right at that moment. Every thread he’d held on to that Will might want him, every thread he’d held on to that Will might talk to him, every thread he’d held on to of Will being  _ happy _ snaps in that moment. 

Hannibal, all this time has been telling himself  _ ‘he’ll open up soon. He’s just having a hard time,’.  _ It’s only now when he stops believing in that. Three months of quiet, distant Will has boiled down to this. And it makes sense. No matter how Hannibal expresses his love, no matter how Hannibal treats him, Will will never love him back. And it’s about time he accepts that. He doesn’t say anything back. Hannibal doesn’t let his emotions show until he’s out of the room. Quietly, he turns around and leaves the bathroom, closing the door.

It’s only when the bathroom door clicks shut that Hannibal lets out a deep breath and the tears begin to flow down his cheeks. He bites his tongue, throat constricting and his nose flares red as tears fall down his cheeks. He’s silent as he moves through the cabin, picking up his keys as he slides his shoes on and leaves the cabin. 

There’s a hole in his heart. One that Hannibal has held on to hope to that Will could fill. But now that he knows Will won’t fill that void, the hole in his heart only feels bigger. And Hannibal doesn’t know how to fill it. 

***

Will feels  _ awful  _ after watching Hannibal leave the bathroom. All he’s ever been doing for Will is helping him, making sure he’s comfortable, cooking him meals he enjoys eating. Will definitely must have seemed so fucking ungrateful and so fucking cruel. 

What Will has just said to Hannibal cuts deeper than any scars they have from each other. That must have  _ hurt.  _ There has only been one other time where Will has left Hannibal speechless with harsh words, and that time, Hannibal had decided to turn himself over to the FBI. Will hopes to  _ god  _ Hannibal isn’t about to do that again. 

This isn’t Hannibal’s fault. Not directly, at least. It was Will himself who sent them over the cliff.  _ He  _ got them into this mess, and Hannibal is just trying to make it more bearable. The truth is, Will  _ does  _ need him. He  _ does  _ need Hannibal to open his shampoo and massage his limbs and cook him food he loves. But more importantly, he wants Hannibal’s company. And if Hannibal wasn’t doubting Will’s love before, he sure was now. Will has never felt more like an ass. 

He hears the front door of the cabin close and lock, and Will is left to his own devices. He doesn’t even finish cleaning himself, he just sits in the bath until the water runs cold and his skin prunes. He misses Hannibal already.

Normally, when Will gets out of the bath, Hannibal is there to massage his hands and arms, and make sure the blood is flowing. It’s not much, but it helps the numbness in his hands feel less… numb. But today when he gets out, his hands tingle, right up to his arms, and Hannibal isn’t there to help that feeling subside. He hopes that Hannibal is going to come back through the front door again, just in time to help Will massage his arms. He can only do so much massaging with one hand, after all. Plus, he can’t reach his shoulders. 

So he waits. He waits, and waits, and waits. And for hours, Hannibal does not return. He fusses with the dogs the best he can with two half paralysed arms. Normally, Hannibal does this, knowing that Will hates the fact that he can’t smother their pack in scratches and love himself. He’s already missing Hannibal, realising how much he truly needs him, and it hasn’t even been a full night. Eventually, Will falls asleep on the sofa waiting for him.

***

Hannibal finds himself drinking at a local bar. He downs glass after glass of wine, trying to numb the pain of his heart break. But no amount of alcohol seems to do the trick. 

He can’t help but wonder what Will is doing. He hopes at the very least that Will is massaging his arms, making sure to keep the blood flowing, and taking his medication. He hopes he’s not straining his back too much reaching for things Hannibal would normally help him reach, he hopes he’s left the shampoo cap open for the next time he showers. Hannibal worries excessively over someone who doesn’t care a single bit for him. Who doesn’t need him. 

So, lots of alcohol and many hours later, Hannibal finally pays his tab and leaves the club, just past two a.m. He’s tipsy as he walks back through the little beach town, but luckily for him, it’s only a short walk. He can feel a headache coming along, his head throbbing, likely from all the crying and drinking he’s been doing. 

When Hannibal makes it home, he finds the front room light on and the door ajar. He goes in with the intention of turning the light off, when he spots Will, seemingly fast asleep. Normally, Hannibal would carry him to his room and tuck him under the sheets, being careful not to wake him. But now, Hannibal feels like that would be overstepping. He’ll catch a cold like that though, topless but not even fully dried off. Hannibal should leave him like that. Will doesn’t need him after all. But he finds himself unable to just leave him like that. So even if Will doesn’t appreciate his efforts, Hannibal unfolds his own blanket to cover him. 

They have a blanket each. But Hannibal can’t remember the last time Will actually used his own, for he often found Will curled up in his blanket, claiming it was softer than his own. With a sigh, Hannibal folds back up his own blanket and unfolds Will’s, almost brand new and practically unused, and drapes it over his sleeping body. He turns off the light, closes the door, and heads to bed. 

———————————————————————

When Will wakes up the next afternoon, he notices two things. One-- he’s woken up in the front room. Normally when he falls asleep on the sofa, Hannibal takes him back to his room. And two-- the blanket covering him isn’t one he covered himself with. Then, Will notices a third thing. The blanket covering him isn’t even the one he normally uses. This one feels unfamiliar, it smells unfamiliar. And then he realises it’s normally Hannibal’s blanket he curls up on the sofa with. He further remembers what he said so maliciously to Hannibal yesterday, and his heart sinks. He pushes away the unfamiliar fabric. It’s not like he felt any warmer with it anyway. 

Cautiously, Will sits up. Normally at this time, Hannibal is making lunch. Will would be able to hear him, even though he’s not fully awake. But today, he hears nothing. With a sigh, he leaves the front room to find the kitchen empty, and all he can see is a plate covered with plastic wrap. Hannibal usually would wake him up for lunch, but today, he didn’t even leave reheating instructions. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to eat anymore. But he doesn’t want to make Hannibal feel even more unappreciated than he already is. So he reheats the plate in a microwave and forces it down his stomach. 

It’s just as nice as it always is. Hannibal has made it, after all.

When he retreats to his room, he passes Hannibal’s room and pauses for a moment. Just a split second to see if he can hear anything. He even presses his ear to the door, but he hears nothing. But then Will sees him just as he turns away. He’s on the back balcony, stood watching the ocean, a mug in his hands. Will stares longingly, wondering if Hanibal has noticed him. If he has, he shows no signs of it. With a quiet sigh, Will retreats to his room. 

***

Hannibal can’t take his mind off what Will said to him. It hurt so much more than anything they’ve ever done to each other, so much so that even just thinking about it causes tears to well in his eyes and his cheeks to fluster red. Hannibal got what he wanted. He wanted Will, and Will only. He wanted Will to have him, and him only. He got his wish. He just didn’t expect it to come with such a steep price. 

He stands, watching the waves hit the sand, for hours until the sun goes down and the sky is painted purple and orange. Only then does he retreat back inside. Hannibal doesn’t feel like cooking. It used to be a way to relax and wind down for the day. Then it became a way to make sure Will stayed healthy while he recovered. But now Will doesn’t need him, and he’s not sure if he can even be bothered. 

He forces him to though. Otherwise, Will won’t eat. Hannibal churns out a quick coconut fish curry, something that can easily be reheated. He cooks silently, chopping fish and vegetables. Normally, Will would come into the kitchen and join him. Even if they don’t speak, the company would still be there. He’s waiting for that, even though he knows Will likely will not come out of his room. Hannibal cooks, serves himself a portion, eats, and saves the rest for Will. By the time he’s done, night has fallen, and it’s time to drink away his sorrows. 

So Hannibal sets out again to the same bar. 

***

Will hears the door of the cabin close again, and he assumes Hannibal has gone out again. He presumes Hannibal hasn’t cooked, because normally he’d let Will know. Then again, lunch was just left wrapped for him earlier. It’s not as if Will can blame him,though, it’s entirely his fault for being just straight up harsh. In fact, harsh doesn't even cut it. What Will said was straight-up spiteful. Venomous. And Hannibal hadn’t even done anything. 

When Will gets to the kitchen, he isn’t surprised when he sees only a plate of curry and reheating instructions. It’s still hot though, so Will decides to just eat it now before it goes cold. He can’t deny that it feels so fucking lonely without Hannibal here. And even when he is here, it feels like he isn’t. Will only has himself to blame. 

After eating he clears away his plate and feeds the dogs, who seem to have sensed the thick atmosphere, the solemn air around them. Will can’t help but feel sorry for them, having to put up with him and Hannibal’s shit. 

The more Will looks at their dogs, the more horrible he feels. Hannibal paid, out of his own pocket, for their dogs to come under the radar with them. Hannibal pays for their food and feeds them. Hannibal bathes them and plays with them when Will’s back doesn’t allow him to, and all Will has given in return is grief. 

Will stays up that night, hoping to catch Hannibal as he comes home from… wherever he goes. 

***

Downing wine, as Hannibal once more discovers, does nothing to fill the hole in his heart. But that doesn’t stop him from trying. He nurses his wine, bit by bit, as he watches the clock tick. He’s not tipsy per se, but he’s certainly pliant in that as soon as a man takes interest in him, he doesn’t stop roaming hands and flirty lips. Maybe it’ll fill the void a little. 

“You look like you could do with a pick-me-up.” A voice murmurs in Hannibal’s ear. “Lonely?” 

“Something akin to loneliness would be accurate.” Hannibal mumbles into his glass, uncharacteristically quiet as the man tests his boundaries and wraps an arm around his waist. Hannibal doesn’t resist. 

“Would you allow me to take that loneliness away, then?” Hannibal would rather it were Will asking, but he’s far from in his grasp. It’s something he’s still learning to accept. So what harm is there in having someone else’s company? It’s not quite Will’s, but Hannibal supposes it might fulfil his desire to feel needed, at least.

“Do with me what you will.” Hannibal stands and allows the man to lead him out the back to a room. Oh. Apparently it’s one of  _ those  _ bars. Hannibal doesn’t care. He just needs to numb the pain and alcohol isn’t doing it. 

He’s lax under the man. He’s younger than Hannibal, by the looks of things, but he’s broader, taller, and Hannibal finds himself feeling oddly comforted. He makes no move to protest when large hands undo the button on his chinos and tug the fly down, he just lets himself be undressed, lets himself be used. 

Hannibal’s cock fills and he gasps sharply as a large, warm palm dips into the waistband of his boxer briefs and wraps around his length. “M-mhh…” Hannibal shakily sighs, eyes fluttering shut as hands unclothe him.

His head is dizzy, spinning partly because of the alcohol and partly because he’s overwhelmed. Hannibal hears the pop of a cap— at least he has lube— and then feels cold fingers touch his rim. 

The man opens him up gracelessly, forcing in finger after finger. Hannibal has to hold back a wretched cry at the burn and sting, but god, does it feel good. Hannibal is silent, the only noises pulled from him a the faintest of noises as he’s split open on the man’s girth, thighs trembling and breaths shaky as he bites his lip and bares the pain.

“N-nghh…” Hannibal shudders, hissing at the pain as he’s used and abused. But at least he’s needed. Wanted. Even if it is just for sex. 

***

His orgasm is weak, barely even there, yet still it feels euphoric. His fling at least has enough decency to pull out before he comes, and then help him clean up a little. Hannibal doesn’t even catch his name before they part. 

He makes the slow trek home, feeling… less empty than he did before. It’s something, at least. 

When he arrives home he notices Will has fallen asleep on the sofa again, this time, curled up beside Winston. It’s such a serene, peaceful sight. Will looks… adorable, simply put, and Hannibal can’t help but let his gaze linger a little longer before he pulls the blanket over his sleeping form and heads to the bathroom to shower. 

———————————————————————

_ Dammit,  _ Will thinks as he wakes up the next morning, for he’d fallen asleep the previous night before Hannibal had returned. He notices again that he’s covered with a blanket, and it still warms his heart to know Hannibal would still do these things for him, even after Will was so cruel. Then it makes him feel even worse about what he said to Hannibal. 

It just came out in an angry outburst and he didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t even Hannibal he was angry at. He comes out of his room to find lunch, once again, wrapped and on the table for him. He sighs heavily, hoping he’d catch Hannibal cooking. But even if he did, Hannibal likely wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway. 

Still, he smiles wearily at the plate in front of him and reheats it. 

He takes a shower, and once more, he misses the fact that Hannibal isn’t there to help massage his numb, aching limbs. Or rather, he  _ is  _ there, but Will doesn’t think he’s welcome to ask for a massage. The cabin feels empty. Literally just a shell for them to reside in. It doesn’t even feel like they live in the same home anymore. 

“Dinner is ready.” Murmurs Hannibal as Will comes out of the bathroom, and Will’s heart thumps. It’s the first time Hannibal has spoken to him in two days. He doesn’t say anything else though. Hannibal just takes his plate and slides past Will, without even touching his waist like he normally does, and then retreats to eat on the balcony. 

Later that evening, when Hannibal goes out for a third night in a row, Will gets agitated. It’s unlike Hannibal to go out for anything other than essentials. The first night was understandable - Will had upset him. But three nights in a row was out of character. So, once more Will tries to wait until Hannibal returns before he sleeps. 

***

Hannibal finds himself at that same bar for the third night in a row. And once more, he lets himself get swept away by another man, desperate to feel useful and needed and appreciated. 

The man takes him apart slowly, pushing two fingers through the tight rings of muscle as Hannibal mewls quietly into the pillow under his face. It’s painful. He’s still slightly sore from the previous night’s encounter but it doesn’t matter. He needs this to feel  _ something  _ other than heart ache. 

Hannibal gets fucked into the mattress, nothing but mere whines escaping his sealed lips as tears streak his face. He digs his hands into the sheets and just lets himself be used, each forceful thrust sending up lurching up the mattress. He lets out a raspy breath at a particularly rough thrust, thighs tensing and rim tightening at the sudden fierceness. 

When he comes, it’s barely even pleasurable. But at least it’s liberating. 

———————————————————————

This continues for… days. Over a week. Every night, Hannibal cooks, eats, then leaves for the same bar, and every night, he picks up someone new. Someone to help ease his pain and help him forget the harsh reality that Will could never love Hannibal the way Hannibal loves him. 

They tiptoe around each other, careful not to linger too long in shared spaces. Hannibal tries his best not to gaze so desperately whenever he sees Will. 

And Will, too, struggles not to gaze so pitifully whenever he watches Hannibal eat his meals on the balcony instead of the dining room. 

Every evening when Hannibal leaves Will finds himself needing to stay awake, needing to make sure he’s going to come home and he’s not going to just disappear out of sight again. He desperately wants to ask where he’s going, what he’s doing, but it’s not his place to know. On this particular day, he can’t help himself. 

“Where are you going?” Will asks, voice small as he comes out of his room. Hannibal looks at him, biting his tongue as his brows crease. 

“Nowhere you need to concern yourself with.” And that’s all Hannibal says before leaving. But Will  _ hates  _ it. He hates not knowing if Hannibal is going to be safe or where he’s going— what if something were to happen to him? Against his better judgement, he follows Hannibal.

He waits until he’s just out of sight before rushing to follow him. 

Will follows Hannibal through the beachfront town, and watches as he enters a building. He’s about to go in too, when he realises just  _ what  _ bar this is. His heart sinks in his chest and he grits his teeth at the thought of Hannibal talking up other men. 

Well. At least he knows where Hannibal has been going. 

Will heads back to the cabin, and tonight, he’s determined to stay awake and wait for Hannibal because it’s killing him that they haven’t spoken in over a week and he just misses Hannibal. Even when he  _ is _ home he isn’t really, and Will just wants his company back. 

And naturally, he can’t deny the overwhelming jealousy he feels at the thought of Hannibal at a sex club. He just wants to drag Hannibal out of there and kiss him and apologise and--  _ fuck.  _ When they went over that cliff they resigned to the fact that from now on, they’d only ever have each other. But now, they don’t even have that. 

Will wants Hannibal to smother him again. To dote and care for him and reach shelves so he doesn’t injure his back. He wants Hannibal to open shampoo bottles and buy him ridiculous teas and buy him overpowering bath oils. Will just misses  _ Hannibal.  _

He catches himself almost falling asleep again but today, he’s determined. But  _ god,  _ Hannibal seems to be taking forever. It’s already close to three a.m, and the fact that Hannibal is probably enjoying the company of someone else doesn’t make Will feel any better. God, he’s acting like a scorned mistress waiting for him. 

But finally, half an hour later, Hannibal returns home. 

***

When Hannibal returns, he realises that the front room light is on again. Will must have left it on. So he pushes open the door, expecting to have to cover Will with a blanket as well, only to find, much to his surprise, Will is awake. 

“Hannibal,” he sighs, almost in relief. 

“Will.” Murmurs Hannibal. “My apologies for disturbing you. I thought you were asleep.” Hannibal turns away and prepares to leave, but Will stops him. 

“Hannibal— wait. Please.” Hannibal can hear the pleading in Will’s tone as he clenches his jaw and waits for Will to carry on. “That club… is that where you’re always at when you leave?” He mumbles, brows creased as he anticipates an answer. 

“You followed me.” Hannibal realises, and Will nods. “Well now you know where I am.” He mumbles, and he turns away again. 

“What do you do? When you’re there?” Hannibal frowns and lets out a heavy breath. 

“The sheer audacity of you to ask what I do in my own time is baffling to me, considering the circumstances.” Hannibal hisses through tight lips and a clenched jaw, his fists balled up at his sides. He can’t help but be upset over the fact that Will just asked what he’s doing at a sex club when  _ he’s  _ the reason Hannibal is there in the first place. “Last time I checked whomever I met up with in my free time was none of your concern and I’m sure the same sentiment extends to now.” It takes Will a moment to put it all together. 

The last time he rejected Hannibal he turned himself into the FBI. This time, he’s surrendering himself to strangers in a club. Sex, to dispel the anguish Will caused. Because physical torment hurts less than emotional turmoil, doesn’t it? Will doubts they treat him well at all. 

“Why?” Will dares to ask, even though he’s already got the answer. He just wants to hear it from Hannibal. Maybe he can make things right again. But Hannibal just sighs. 

“I’m going to retire for the night.” But all that does is make Will  _ fume.  _

“Hannibal!” Will calls, standing up from the sofa. 

“What is it you require, Will?” Hannibal relents, tone somewhat annoyed and he stands with his back turned to Will as he waits to leave the front room. There’s no response, and he’s about to leave. But then warm arms wrap weakly around his waist. They grip as tightly as Will can muster and they hold him there. Hannibal gasps in surprise, but he makes no move to pull away.

“I’m sorry.” Will mumbles into his back. “I didn’t mean to say what I said. I was just angry that I could barely do anything for myself. I didn’t mean to be angry at you too.” Will swallows thickly, mouth dry as he sucks in a breath. “I need you, Hannibal. I miss you.” Hannibal can feel the way Will’s arms quiver around his waist, likely from exhaustion as they hold him tight. Hannibal’s hands grasp Will’s arms and squeeze softly. 

“You haven’t been working on loosening your muscles.” He observes. “They’re going to grow weaker and seize more frequently.” 

“There’s only so much massaging I can do with one hand.” Will grumbles, hoping Hannibal will help him out. Hannibal sighs and frees himself from Will’s grasp, and for a split second, Will thinks Hannibal might push him away— they’ll never fix this. “Sit down, wait for me.” Reluctantly, Will releases Hannibal’s waist and goes to sit back in his seat as Hannibal leaves. 

Buster seems to sense his unease, and immediately, he jumps up to sit in Will’s lap, licking his face. Will splutters, chuckling softly as his lip twitches into a soft smile, the only smile he’s managed all week. 

Hannibal can hear Will’s soft chuckle from the corridor and concludes that it’s likely the dogs who have managed to pull such a sweet sound from Will. He ponders on Will’s apology as he heads into the bathroom to pull out some massage oil. 

He knows Will is more angry at himself than Hannibal. He knows Will didn’t mean for those words to come out— at least not like that. But they  _ did,  _ and it doesn’t change the fact that they still hurt. He misses Will. He misses doing things for him and helping him, and it kills him when they’re so distant. With a heavy sigh, he returns to the front room. 

Hannibal sits beside Will and quietly grasps one arm, as gentle as he always is. Warm fingers begin to massage from the top of Will’s arm, working their way slowly down and  _ oh,  _ how good it feels to have Hannibal’s touch again. They sit in silence, but for once, it doesn’t feel so tense. 

“Were they good?” Will suddenly asks. Hannibal looks up at him, a little confused by the question. “The people you… you met up with.” Hannibal’s jaw tenses, but it quickly loosens again. 

“They sufficed.” Mumbles Hannibal, almost shamefully. 

“I’m not judging.” Will quickly clarifies. “Did they… at least treat you well?” Hannibal shrugs. 

“Some did, some didn’t. I didn’t think much of it.” Hannibal gestures for him to turn around so he can do the other arm. “They needed me. And I wanted to feel needed.”  _ Oh,  _ that makes Will’s heart sting. Will pulls his arm away and turns to face Hannibal. Reaching out, he grasps Hannibal’s face and studies his expression. He can still see the ache in his eyes, covering that usual sparkle his hazel eyes have. Hannibal looks away, likely out of shame that he’s turned to promiscuity as a coping mechanism. 

“Let me show you.” Will says quietly. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated.” Hannibal’s glance flits to catch Will’s gaze as he lets out a breath of surprise. 

“Will—“ 

“Please.” Will pleads. “I don’t want you to go back to them.” Hannibal’s lip quirks into something resembling an amused smile. 

“Oh? Are you jealous?” He asks as Will’s thumb caresses his face. 

“Maybe a little.” Hannibal lets out a huff as one hand cups Will’s on his face. Will leans in, slow and steady to kiss Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal doesn’t resist - he lets himself be consumed by Will’s soft, plump lips, ever so tender to his own. 

“Will.” Whispers Hannibal against his lips as their noses bump and their foreheads touch and their breaths mingle. An arm snakes around Hannibal’s waist and Will pulls him closer, until their chests are almost touching. Will leans in again, pressing another chaste kiss to Hannibal’s lips. And another, and another, and another, until his lips are swollen and red and kiss bitten. 

“Come to bed with me.” Murmurs Will against Hannibal’s lips. 

“What do you intend to do to me?” Muses Hannibal as Will nuzzles against his neck. 

“I intend to make you forget about anyone who isn’t me.” Will sighs against his neck as Hannibal shudders at the sheer possessiveness in Will’s voice. Will stands and holds his hand out for Hannibal to take. 

*** 

Will pushes Hannibal down against the mattress and pushes apart his thighs, kneeling between them. 

“I’m sorry. For what I said.” He mumbles apologetically against as he leans down to bracket his arms beside Hannibal’s head and kiss his face. “I didn’t mean it like that— I didn’t mean to say it at all.” He sighs against the older man’s lips. 

“I know.” Hannibal reassures as Will presses kiss after kiss to his lips. Will’s arms shake beside his head, a sign of overexertion already. “Will—” Hannibal huffs as Will cuts him off with another kiss. “Will, your arms—“ 

“They’re okay.” insists Will. 

“You’re shaking. Maybe we should turn over.” Hannibal suggests, but Will shuts him up with a kiss. 

“I want to see you like this.” Hannibal’s hands grasp Will’s waist for support, and he mewls as Will’s knee shifts and presses against his hardening cock. 

“A-ahh… Will…” Hannibal gasps as Will sits up and makes quick work of his clothes, stripping him of his shirt and trousers. His hands dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs and he tugs his erection free from the confines of the fabric. “H-hnngh…” 

“Take a breath, Hannibal.” Will instructs as he reaches for the lube from the bedside cabinet and pops open the cap. Hannibal has questions— since when did Will own lube? He can’t spare another second to dwell on it however, for Will’s warm hand wraps around his cock. 

“W-Will…” Hannibal can’t even comprehend how good it feels to have Will like this. His touch is tender and slow as he deals long, slow strokes to Hannibal’s cock, his thumb swiping over the red tip to pick up the beads of precome. “H-haa…” Hannibal’s eyes fluttering shut and he throws his head back as his cock twitches in Will’s hand, hips bucking into the warmth of his palm. 

“M-mhh…” he manages to coax another shudders breath from Hannibal as his free hand splays out over his inner thigh, thumb rubbing in soft, comforting circles. Hannibal bites his lip, holding back another moan, but Will wants to hear every noise. 

“Let me hear you, Hannibal.” He croons encouragingly as Hannibal’s hands grip the pillows beneath his head. When Hannibal refuses, Will squeezes his cock and leans down till his lips brush the shell of his ear. “Come on, Hannibal… let me know how good you feel?” And that voice, so low and sultry, does it. Hannibal’s lips part and a strangled moan is ripped from his throat, much to Will’s delight. 

“That’s it… today it’s my turn to take care of you.” Muses Will as his hand runs up from Hannibal’s inner thigh, up his belly and up to his chest, feeling the soft fuzz under his palm. He continues to pump Hannibal’s cock in his hand, fingertips trickling down to his balls to feel the smoothness and tease the soft skin just above his rim. 

“A-ahh… W-Will… c-close…” Hannibal grits, thighs tensing as he feels the knot in his stomach begin to unwind. Even though he’s spent every night with his pleasure at the hands of someone else, no one compares to Will. They were all mediocre before, but now, they’re dust compared to Will.

“Already?” Hannibal whimpers and nods shyly. Will smiles and begins to work his hand in faster strokes, gauging each of Hannibal’s reactions as he pushes him closer and closer to orgasm. 

“N-nngh—!” Hannibal’s stomach tenses and he bites his lip, coming all over his stomach. Sparks of pleasure set his skin alight and  _ oh,  _ it feels euphoric compared to his last few encounters. Will continues to work him through his orgasm, hand wringing Hannibal dry as his body jerks and shakes uncontrollably, muted moans escaping his sealed lips. 

Hannibal already feels tired and dated after one orgasm, but Will wants to really make him feel good. It’s already nearing three thirty a.m, but that doesn’t deter Will. Hannibal deserves to know he’s adored and appreciated, especially after Will’s outburst last week. 

“W-Will…” Hannibal utters, panting heavily. He’s already sweating, hair matted to his forehead as Will kisses up his body and catches his lips. 

“I wanted to hear you, Hannibal.” He mumbled against his lips. “Don’t hold back your noises.” Hannibal whimpers, but nods. With a soft smile, Will kisses him again and sits back between his thighs, pushing them apart. He picks up the lube again and pops open the cap.

Hannibal’s thighs automatically open further for Will as Will grasps his ass and tugs apart his cheeks, flesh spilling between his fingers as they dug in. He sighs pitifully at the way Hannibal’s rim is red and swollen, clearly used and abused, and Will could just tell that Hannibal had not been comfortable. Hannibal catches him gazing, brows creased. 

“Did it hurt?” Will asks quietly as his hand caresses Hannibal’s thigh. 

“A little.” Hannibal timidly says. “It was a pain I was willing to endure.” 

“Not anymore.” Will sighs, leaning forward to kiss Hannibal again. “I won’t let you endure that anymore, not with me.” And  _ oh,  _ how Hannibal’s heart swells. He can feel tears well up in his eyes with how tender those words just sound coming from Will, and the way Will’s nose brushes his, coupled with the way his stubble grazes his chin just has him  _ so soft _ that he doesn’t even realise tears have streaked his face until Will kisses them away from his cheeks. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Reassures Will as Hannibal tries to hold back sobs, so utterly overwhelmed by how tender Will treats him. 

“I’m sorry.” Hannibal shakily sighs. “I’m not normally so emotionally inundated.” Will lets out a soft chuckle and keeps kissing his face, just until Hannibal’s tears cease. 

“Shall I keep going?” Sucking in a breath, Hannibal nods. Will squeezes the lube onto his hands, generously coating his fingers. He warms the gel in his hand, then presses the pad of his finger to his pinkened rim and pushes in. 

“Ahh—“ Hannibal gasps, almost holding back his moan until he reminds himself that Will wants to hear him. Hannibal parts easily for his finger, Will notes, as he begins to press deeper, roaming to find the spot that will no doubt force those sweet moans from Hannibal’s throat. “Ah, W-Will… more, please, please…” Will smiles to himself, pleased at the fact that Hannibal’s moans are relatively unrestrained. So Will presses another finger in, and it tears another loud moan from the older man. 

“You’re opening up so well for me.” He muses, crooking and scissoring his fingers. Hannibal’s lips part with a silent moan, eyes fluttering shut as Will presses in a third finger. “Beautiful, Hannibal…” Hannibal mewls again at Will’s praise, hips bucking back as Will’s fingers probe and roam. And then— 

_ “Ahh—!  _ Oh God, Will, that’s… ahh…” Hannibal’s breaths are shaky and raspy as he sucks in lungfuls of air, pleasure buzzing under his skin. His limbs tremble and his thighs tense, hips pressing back against Will’s hand.

“There?” Hannibal nods. Will can feel his hand quickly beginning to weaken and the muscles beginning to tighten, but each sound Hannibal lets out only spurs him on. 

“Will… please… no more teasing…” Hannibal swallows thickly, tugging his lip between his teeth as Will’s knuckles graze his prostate again. Obediently, Will’s fingers slip free from Hannibal’s hole, now reddened and slightly gaping, but Hannibal feels no raw pain. 

Will quickly works to slick his cock in a generous amount of lube, determined to make Hannibal feel only pleasure without so much as a hint of pain. Pressing Hannibal’s thighs apart once more, Will lines himself up, the tip of his cock kissing Hannibal’s winking rim, already so eager to take him in. 

“Take a breath for me, darlin’.” Hannibal can’t help but preen at the way Will calls him  _ darlin’,  _ southern drawl and all. He inhales slowly, holding his breath as Will pushes in. 

“Ahh…” He lets out his breath, long and slow, as the head of Will’s cock breaches him with a lewd, wet noise. “O-oh… W-Will… ahnn…” 

“Shh… that’s it… taking me so well…” Will praises as one hand reaches to cup Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal nuzzles into his hand, keening again as Will pushes all the way in, their hips meeting. Hannibal’s channel tightens, rippling muscle massaging Will’s cock, now fully seated within him. 

The pleasure, mixed with Will’s soft words is almost too much for Hannibal, and as Will whispers in his ear, Hannibal can feel more tears threatening to fall down his face and this time, he can’t stop them. Everything is just so overpowering and  _ oh,  _ it feels amazing to finally feel loved by Will. To feel cherished and cared for and  _ needed.  _ Hannibal brings his arms around Will’s neck and holds him, letting out soft, breathy moans as he adjusts to Will’s girth. He’s so much more gentle, so much more attentive than anyone else he’s been with. Hannibal truly feels like he could melt in Will’s arms. 

“Shh, it’s okay… I gotcha, darlin’...” There it is again, that pet name that Hannibal has come to love so much in a matter of mere minutes. “That’s it, you’re so good for me…” Hannibal’s fingers dig into Will’s shoulders, clinging to Will as Will’s voice, low and slow, fills his ears. 

Hannibal looks pretty when he cries, Will comes to realise as he kisses Hannibal’s tears away once more. He gives Hannibal a few moments to process everything-- from the physical bliss to the emotional turn, it’s evident by Hannibal’s vulnerable state that he just needs a minute to wrap his arms around Will and hold him close. Hannibal’s tears eventually stop as he sucks in a hiccupy breath. 

“You can move… Will…” With one last peck to his lips, Will sits up on his knees and grasps Hannibal’s hips. Slowly, he begins to move. “A-haa… W-Will… oh… nngh…” Will pumps his hips, his pace slow at first as he pulls out, then pushes right back through the tight channel. “Ahh!” Hannibal’s hands twist in the sheets, his ass clenching around Will as the head of his cock knocks his prostate. “There, Will, more, please…” 

The sight of Hannibal, consumed by pleasure, begging for Will, is a sight to behold. Who is Will to deny him? So he homes in on that bundle of nerves, angling his hips to strike his prostate head on with every thrust. “Ah, ah, ah, oh, Will… c-close…” Will reaches down and wraps his hands under Hannibal’s shoulders, pulling him upright and into his lap, so they’re chest to chest. 

“I love you, darlin’.” That does it. Within seconds, Hannibal is coming, spurting up their chests, causing Will to hiss with the way his velvety warmth ripples and convulses around his cock. He’s suddenly so tight, but Will keeps going, keeps hitting his prostate with every thrust as Hannibal moans into his shoulder, face nuzzled into his neck. 

Will’s arms wrap around Hannibal’s waist as he writhes in his lap, so overcome by euphoria that his body trembles right through to his bones, electricity coursing under his skin as each brush of his prostate has his aching cock twitching. “H-Hannibal… ngh… haa…  _ ahh--!”  _ With only a few more thrusts, Will’s hips begin to falter and he comes, punching a quiet  _ “unghh!”  _ from Hannibal’s lungs as he fills him, Hannibal’s pulsing body milking him, wringing him dry. 

He feels Hannibal physically deflate in his arms, feels the moment when every last drop of energy dissipates. Hannibal’s eyes flutter shut with fatigue, Hannibal’s body reverberating with a blissful euphoria that he’s never experienced before. Will holds him tight, tips him back against the mattress, and hikes one of Hannibal’s legs up to his hip.

They’re so sticky and gross and sweaty, but at this moment, Hannibal doesn’t care. This is all he’s ever wanted. To feel wanted and needed and adored. By Will. And he finally has it. 

“There we go, I gotcha… ‘m not letting you go, darlin’...” 

And for the first time in months, Hannibal feels like he can fall asleep peacefully, without worrying he’ll lose Will. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check out my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/CarnivalMirai) where I post teasers and announcements!


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